


A Dinner Date Gone Wrong (or: Getting Animal Control Called On You Is More Trouble Than It's Worth)

by AnonymousDandelion



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Control - Freeform, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale to the Rescue (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, Footnotes, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Sad Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), but they can't admit it, crawlysnake, mild miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousDandelion/pseuds/AnonymousDandelion
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale are supposed to be having dinner together, and they're both secretly and tremendously excited. Crowley has a snakey prank planned, but much to both of their dismay, Aziraphale is running late.Then, someone calls animal control on the large black snake outside the Ritz, and things go pear-shaped.Luckily, the angel is on the way.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 220
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Snakes And Dogs Don’t Mix](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25189810) by [fractalgeometry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalgeometry/pseuds/fractalgeometry). 



> The story "Snakes And Dogs Don't Mix," by fractalgeometry, includes one line which refers to Crowley "knowing from experience that getting animal control called on you was more trouble than it was worth." That line intrigued me — so, I started writing. ~5000 words later, here we are: One interpretation of how Crowley might have come to encounter animal control, and what might have then ensued.
> 
> Shout out to fractalgeometry for a delightful chain of mutual inspiration!
> 
> Also, brief disclaimer: Apologies in advance for any inaccuracies (of which I'm sure there are some) relating to the Ritz, animal control/snake removal techniques, etc. Corrections on such matters are more than welcome in the comments. ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being caught, held in place, and then lifted by what amount to a few pairs of tongs is somewhat painful, but it is far more demeaning. The combined physical and mental discomfort did not help Crowley in figuring out what to do in the panic-stricken moment, and the next thing he knew, he was inside a large, snake-proof bin in the animal control van.
> 
> Crowley, demon, fallen angel, original tempter, flash bastard supreme, was inside a snake-proof bin. And he had thought tongs were humiliating.

There was a snake outside the Ritz.

It was a rather large snake, although it could easily have chosen to be larger; three or four meters long, and proportionately thick. It was black. It had serpentine eyes that were somehow even more unnerving than typical snakes’ eyes—which meant they were _exceedingly_ unnerving.

The snake was waiting for a friend, and the friend was running late.

Crowley shifted position in the shadows, and regretted that serpents could not easily wear wristwatches. Aziraphale was due at least five minutes ago, and counting. Crowley had made sure to arrive and park the Bentley early,[1] so he’d have plenty of time to get in position and lie in wait to execute his plan. He’d been looking forward to harmlessly ambushing his dining companion in snake form, knowing the prank was practically guaranteed to bring an expression of mingled exasperation, amusement, and perhaps even affection[2] to the face of an angel who, embarrassingly and endearingly and refreshingly, still somehow seemed to trust an entity who was supposed to be a bona fide representative of Evil.

Crowley had it all planned out. After the surprise, and Aziraphale’s mostly-feigned indignation, he’d turn humanoid again, they’d go into the Ritz and claim the reservation they hadn’t made, Aziraphale would eat and drink and Crowley would drink,[3] and they’d talk about the most trivial of topics, with important things dropped in here and there as an aside that both would carefully file away and pretend not to notice. Afterwards, maybe they’d drive in the Bentley back to the angel’s bookshop, have a few more drinks, and properly catch each other up on the last few decades.

It had been a disconcertingly high number of years since they’d last seen each other, and much longer since the last time they'd gone to a restaurant together, back in Paris during the Reign of Terror. Crowley still owed the angel a meal, and while paying debts was perhaps not the most demonic thing to do, he couldn’t deny[4] that the excuse to tempt Aziraphale out to eat was quite welcome — and that the angel’s acceptance of the temptation had been quite welcome as well.

Where _was_ the angel, anyway? Crowley was beginning to be troubled by Aziraphale’s delay, an emotion that was equal parts annoyance and concern. He knew that the angel was often liable to lose track of time by getting caught up between the pages of a book, or distracted by some obscure question that crossed his mind about eighteenth-century fashion, but really, what was taking so long? He thought he’d kept a close watch, but could he have somehow missed the Aziraphale’s arrival? What if Aziraphale was waiting inside the Ritz, or out on the grounds, wondering where _Crowley_ was?

That last thought was disturbing enough that Crowley decided to slither out of the shadows enough to get a good look around.

This was an error. Crowley sensed no ethereal presence, but unfortunately, a decidedly non-ethereal someone sensed _his_ presence. A well-dressed gentleman,[5] with an even-better-dressed lady on his arm, made the mistake of glancing down as they moved towards the entrance. He froze. For a moment he simply stared, as if his brain were attempting to convince itself that it was _not_ seeing a ten-foot-long snake on the ground outside the Ritz. The brain evidently failed in its effort, and the man made a strangled sound reminiscent of a combined shriek and moan. His female companion followed his gaze, saw the snake, and froze briefly herself; then, being made of sterner stuff, she drew her partner on towards the Ritz. He came beside her, still swaying slightly.

Being seen in snake form by a human had not been in Crowley’s plan, but making the most of things, he congratulated himself on having delivered a successful satanic terror. To be on the safe side, he also shrank down to about four or five feet long — still big enough for the ambush to be effective, but small enough to be less visible to the eye of an innocent[6] passerby. Then (having satisfied himself that the angel had not, in fact, arrived without Crowley’s awareness), he crawled back to the shadows to wait.

This was another error. But then, Crowley had no way of knowing that the first thing the lady did, after she’d guided her gentleman companion to their reservation and made sure he was not about to pass out, was to inform the staff that there was a fifteen-foot long snake[7] outside the Ritz.

The Ritz prided itself on providing excellent customer service, and the staff had a direct priority line to most of the emergency responders in London. Within an impressively short span of time, animal control was dispatched. Crowley, oblivious to the danger on its way as fast as its van could carry it, coiled and uncoiled and wondered whether an angel would consider it sinful to stand up a dinner date if the date in question happened to be a demon.[8]

His first indication that there was a problem (aside from that of Aziraphale’s continued absence) was when a flashlight shone in his eyes, dispelling the shadows he’d been counting on as camouflage.[9] Staring up at that flashlight, he recognized the uniform of its bearer and the bearer’s companions almost immediately, but by that point it was already too late. Crowley recoiled and uncoiled, glared through slitted eyes, slithered menacingly, hissed as threateningly as he could,[10] and did his best impression of a rattler.[11]

The officers exchanged some quick words and a couple of them backed away. For a moment Crowley hoped they were leaving,[12] but instead they retrieved a few long-handled implements from their van. Crowley had never seen those particular implements before, but they resembled some things he’d seen in Hell closely enough that he knew instinctively he wanted nothing whatsoever to do with them.

Unfortunately, the implements had every intention of having something to do with Crowley, and their wielders were all too experienced in the arcane art of snake removal. The black serpent put up one of the fastest, fiercest, and most unsettling fights they’d ever faced in a snake of its size,[13] but in the end, the struggle was a brief one.

Being caught, held in place, and then lifted by what amount to a few pairs of tongs is somewhat painful, but it is far more demeaning. The combined physical and mental discomfort did not help Crowley in figuring out what to do in the panic-stricken moment, and the next thing he knew, he was inside a large, snake-proof bin in the animal control van.

 _Crowley_ , demon, fallen angel, original tempter, flash bastard supreme, was inside a snake-proof bin. And he had thought tongs were humiliating.

~ ~ ~

Aziraphale was running late, and he was not happy about that fact.

He could only pray[14] that Crowley had not given up and gone off somewhere with his Bentley. Aziraphale knew all too well that he had only himself to blame if Crowley had done so, but the angel hadn’t _meant_ to be late. He’d been very excited about his dinner date — far more excited than he would admit even to himself, let alone anyone else. He’d paid a visit to the back room of his bookshop, to make sure the right bottle of liquor (the one he’d been saving for quite a few decades now, in the hopes that he’d eventually have a chance to share it with Crowley) was where he thought it was, confirmed that it was exactly where he thought it was, and he really had intended to leave just a few minutes after that.

But then, Aziraphale had noticed that one of his rare customers in the shop earlier that day had actually _touched_ one of the books on the shelves, so of course he had to go tend to it and reassure himself that it hadn’t been damaged, and then he happened to see a reference to seventeenth-century fashion that didn’t quite match with his memory of the era, so he had to go look it up, and then… and then, before he knew it, Azirahaple realized he was supposed to have been at the Ritz ten minutes ago.

Aziraphale could travel quickly when he wanted to, and in this case he did want to. Nonetheless, the immutable fact remained that he was late. When he arrived, he scanned the valet parking anxiously, searching for the familiar contour of—

Ah, there it was. Aziraphale exhaled with relief as he recognized the Bentley, parked in such a unique, distinctly demonic fashion as to take up three whole parking spaces,[15] yet somehow get passed over by any of the valets searching for a place to park or any of the guards looking for a car to tow.[16]

Good, that meant Crowley was still there. Aziraphale wasn’t sure _why_ Crowley had waited for him, and he wasn’t at all sure that he deserved to be waited for, but he couldn’t deny[17] that he was glad about it. He looked around for the Bentley’s owner. There was no sign of Crowley in or near the Bentley, so Aziraphale made his way towards the Ritz. Perhaps Crowley was waiting inside, though that seemed unlike him… or perhaps, it occurred to Aziraphale all at once, Crowley was planning some sort of prank. It would be like Crowley, to lie in wait and then spring an ambush, just for the satisfaction of catching an angel off his guard. It wouldn’t be the first time, though the last time had been well over a thousand years ago. Aziraphale wondered if Crowley remembered that time.[18]

Determined not to get caught off guard this time, Aziraphale carefully scrutinized his surroundings, eyes and other senses alert for any hint of the demon.

That was when he saw the van labeled _animal control_ pulling out of the lot, and from inside the vehicle, his angelically-acute hearing[19] picked up the words, “Quite the snake — never seen its kind before”.

Suddenly, Aziraphale had a very bad feeling.

~ ~ ~

Once the initial panic had subsided, Crowley realized that his situation was not nearly so dire as it seemed. Yes, he was in a snake-proof bin in an animal control van, and yes, it was quite possibly the most demeaning and humiliating experience in his 6000-year existence, but the bin was snake-proof, not demon-proof. The air holes, while far too small to allow even the scrawniest of snakes to escape, were more than large enough to fit a demon for whom size, shape, and composition are simply options. There was also always the option of smiting, though Crowley generally preferred to avoid that course of action unless absolutely necessary. Or, if he was in the mood for a bit of fun, he could take the less straightforward, more creative approach and go about tempting the animal control officers to do… something or other. Probably something extremely embarrassing, though it couldn’t be as embarrassing as being picked up by tongs and dumped in a snake-proof bin.

There were options, plenty of options. Crowley was, after all, a _demon_ , and even the most snake-proof of animal control implements and the most hardy of animal control officers could not keep a demon trapped in a bin against his will. He could escape at any time, in more or less the manner of his choosing.

On the other hand, Crowley had just been picked up by tongs, dumped in a snake-proof bin, and stood up by an angel. To say he was not in the best of moods would have been a truly massive understatement. Even the most hilarious of temptations was not a tempting prospect, right then. Crowley didn’t particularly feel like going anywhere or doing anything, and at the moment the outside world didn’t seem much more appealing than the inside of a snake-proof bin.

Crowley decided to stay in the bin.

~ ~ ~

Aziraphale had never driven any car before, and he had especially never driven Crowley’s Bentley. He was not eager to learn. Still, his preferred methods of transportation were not well-suited to tailing other vehicles, and desperate times called for desperate measures. Aziraphale was minorly surprised that the Bentley did not smite him with a blast of hellfire when he touched it,[20] not to mention when he miraculously unlocked the door and started the engine, but he wasn’t about to complain; he could always point out that oversight to Crowley later, and just pray[21] the demon didn’t decide to smite Aziraphale manually, as it were.

Of course, Crowley could not smite Aziraphale with anything until Aziraphale found him.

The angel awkwardly steered the car out of the parking lot and, by sheer force of will, made it follow the animal control van. The Bentley did so willingly, and it did its damned[22] best to go as fast as it possibly could with an angel at the wheel. It wasn’t up to Crowley’s standards for speed and style, nowhere even close, but it had no difficulty catching up and keeping up with the van.

Aziraphale clenched the steering wheel with white knuckles, channeled ethereal power into the engine, and hoped the Bentley knew enough not to get in an accident. That was the last thing he needed.[23]

**Footnotes**

1 This was a rarity for Crowley. Timeliness was generally considered a virtue, which meant that he tried to avoid it whenever possible.[return to text]

2 Crowley was never quite certain about that last point, but at any rate, he liked to _imagine _that that particular expression on the angel’s face was indicative of affection. Every so often, it was… diverting for Crowley to almost fool himself into thinking that someone cared about his existence.[return to text]__

__ 3 And maybe eat something too, if having company in that activity made the angel happy.[return to text] _ _

__ 4 Correction: He definitely could deny, and if anyone had asked, he definitely would have denied. Crowley was always careful to maintain plausible deniability to the greatest extent available. It was for Aziraphale’s safety at least as much as for his own.[return to text] _ _

__ 5 Gentlemen who were not well-dressed were not permitted to dine at the Ritz, although if the gentleman was rich enough, there was always the possibility that an exception might be made to this rule. There are exceptions to most things, if a gentleman is rich enough.[return to text] _ _

__ 6 Say rather, average and uninvolved. Crowley was a demon; he knew that no one is really innocent, if you only looked deeply enough into their innermost thoughts, memories, and desires.[return to text] _ _

__ 7 She was not deliberately exaggerating. Memories have a way of doing that of their own accord, especially memories that are as shocking as seeing a giant black serpent outside the Ritz.[return to text] _ _

__ 8 Answer: It all depended on the angel (and the demon) in question.[return to text] _ _

__ 9 Ordinarily, Crowley would have been far too alert to be caught so unawares. Just then, however, he was preoccupied by other thoughts, and all his attention was so focused on scanning for Aziraphale that the out-of-place vehicle entering the valet parking lot hardly registered once he’d confirmed that it did not contain an angel.[return to text] _ _

__ 10 This was very, very threatening. To name a few of the more obvious physical side effects, Crowley’s hiss evoked cold sweats, clenching stomachs, and breathing that was either rapid or not breathing at all. Regrettably, animal control officers do not scare easily. This particular set clenched their jaws, stilled the quaking as best they could, and told themselves that this snake was only five feet long, not the twenty they’d been told to expect, so there was really no reason to feel anything but relaxed about a job of a sort they’d done numerous times in the past. They also reminded themselves that turning chicken on the job outside the Ritz was not a good look.[return to text] _ _

__ 11 It was a good impression. Crowley wasn’t venomous, of course, but he could have been if he had wanted to. [return to text] _ _

__ 12 After so many millenia, he should have known better than to go hoping for things. He always thought he did know better, but then, in the defining moment, he found he was hoping for something again. It was hopeless, no pun intended.[return to text] _ _

__ 13 Or in a snake of _any _size.[return to text]__ _ _

___ 14 Figuratively, not literally. Aziraphale was generally and professionally pro-prayer, but praying about a dinner date with a demon seemed like a great way to bring Heaven’s attention to something that Aziraphale had spent a few thousand years trying very hard to keep away from Heaven’s attention.[return to text] _ _ _

___ 15 Technically, two and a half. To all intents and purposes, three.[return to text] _ _ _

___ 16 Needless to say, the driver who had parked the Bentley was not a valet. No one but Crowley had ever taken the wheel of the thing, and Crowley had no intention of ever permitting anyone to do so, least of all a Ritz valet. The fact that no one except authorized individuals were supposed to have access to the valet parking lot was more a source of entertainment than it was an obstacle for Crowley.[return to text] _ _ _

___ 17 To clarify: Yes, he could and would deny it if asked. See footnote 4, but replace “Crowley” with “Aziraphale” and “Aziraphale” with “Crowley”.[return to text] _ _ _

___ 18 Yes, yes, of course Crowley remembered that time, though he thought Aziraphale would have forgotten it long ago. The prank had been an unqualified success; why do you think Crowley had decided to do it again? The look on the angel’s face had been one of those priceless gems Crowley always hoped would show up in his dreams (or better yet, in real life, but that wish didn’t even bear thinking about) one of these centuries.[return to text] _ _ _

___ 19 _Eavesdropping _was sinful, of course, but Aziraphale wasn’t eavesdropping. There was nothing sinful about just so happening to overhear someone speaking inside their vehicle across a parking lot.[return to text]__ _ _ _

___ 20 Had anyone else touched it, it would have. Crowley hadn’t exactly _intentionally _excluded Aziraphale when he set up the protections, but unintended fine print could sometimes slip into miracles if you weren’t very careful about it.[return to text]__ _ _ _

___ 21 Again, not literally.[return to text] _ _ _

___ 22 Safe to assume that a car belonging to a demon is probably damned, right?[return to text] _ _ _

___ 23 On top of the fact that it would have completely ruined his pursuit, and also run the risk of hurting bystanders, he didn’t want to contemplate what Crowley would say if Aziraphale got the Bentley into an accident. Smiting with hellfire wouldn’t begin to cut it.[return to text]_ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned; the second half of this story should be posted early next week! It'll all work out, never fear.
> 
> Thanks for reading — and I'd love to hear your thoughts so far, if you're inclined to comment. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The officer had been working with animal control for going on fifteen years, and she’d thought she knew the job inside and out. But being greeted in Shakespearean English, by a strange man dressed like he was dining at the Ritz, in a facility room which was _not_ supposed to be accessible to the public, was well outside her realm of experience.
> 
> “What kind of snake?” she managed, weakly.
> 
> Aziraphale’s relief at sensing Crowley was powerful, but he was also getting increasingly anxious. He forged ahead. “A black one. With glowing eyes. About” — he realized he had no idea what size Crowley was at the moment — “some feet long.” The lady was squinting like she needed clarification, so he forged further, “He’s _my_ snake."

The van pulled up the outside animal control facility, and Crowley felt the bin being lifted. The person carrying the bin was not doing so quite steadily, and Crowley slid uncomfortably from one side to the other. He didn’t bother trying to give his scales some extra traction, just let it happen.

He heard a door creak, and even from inside the bin he felt the air quality change just slightly. So, they were inside somewhere. The bin was set down with a thump strong enough to send a shock through Crowley’s whole body. He didn’t bother listening to the babble of human voices, talking about him and what to do with him.

Again, Crowley considered his options. Tempting sounded like too much trouble for the mood he was in, and while he realized he did actually feel vaguely like smiting someone, taking out his feelings about an angel on a bunch of non-innocent humans[24] felt extreme, even for a demon.[25] The best thing to do was probably to disappear while the humans were talking, and then unobtrusively watch the chaos ensue when they opened the bin and found it to be empty. That could be entertaining, if only Crowley had been in a frame of mind to be entertained.

On the other hand, maybe he’d just stay in the bin and find out what animal control did with unidentified snakes captured at the Ritz. He had to admit he was a bit curious, and it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do with his evening.

He coiled tighter around himself inside the bin, not paying attention to the voices jabbering on…

And then a new, utterly unexpected, and painfully familiar voice rang out. “Well met, good sirs and lady.”

~ ~ ~

Judging from the expressions on the faces of the animal control officers, Aziraphale had gotten the greeting wrong again. He sighed. Keeping up with which modern vernacular was appropriate in which settings was really not his strong point. Crowley was so much better at that kind of thing.

Aziraphale scanned the room, senses wide open, and immediately found his attention caught and held by a plastic bin on the floor near the wall. The bin was large enough to hold a stack of books, a good supply of wine, or perhaps a mid-sized serpent.

Oh, dear.

If nothing else, at least his greeting had gotten the officers’ attention. One of those surveying the well-dressed arrival — the single woman in the lot — asked, “Can we help you?”

Her tone made it clear that she seriously doubted that they could help him. Aziraphale, however, beamed with all the ethereal charm he could manage.[26] “Why, that’s an excellent question! I do believe you can.” [27]

“Oh? How so?” The officer was skeptical but polite. She’d been working with animal control for going on fifteen years, and she’d thought she knew the job inside and out. But being greeted in semi-Shakespearean English, by a strange man dressed like he was dining at the Ritz, in a facility room which was _not_ supposed to be accessible to the public, was well outside her realm of experience.

Aziraphale bowed.[28] “I am looking for a snake.”

“You… are?”

The officer looked to her colleagues for assistance, but none of them seemed inclined to offer any kind of backup. She sighed to herself. It seemed she was on her own here. “What kind of snake?” she managed, weakly.

Aziraphale’s relief at sensing Crowley was powerful, but he was also getting increasingly anxious. He forged ahead. “A black one. With glowing eyes. About” — he realized he had no idea what size Crowley was at the moment — “some feet long.” The lady was squinting like she needed clarification, so he forged further, “He’s _my_ snake.”[29]

“Your…" The officer wished one of her colleagues would say or do something, rather than leaving her to navigate this increasingly bewildering situation on her own. On one level, it made perfect sense: The snake had been caught outside the Ritz, the man was dressed for dining at the Ritz, the snake belonged to the man.

On another level, it made no sense whatsoever.

“The snake outside the Ritz?” she got out. “Is your pet?”

“My — pet?” Aziraphale did a double take, then added brightly, “Oh, yes, exactly! So, er, I’ll just collect him and leave you to it, shall I?”

Although it was completely against both her training and her common sense, the officer found herself walking over and opening the snake bin. She wasn’t certain if she wanted one of her colleagues to stop her, but in any case, none of them did. She removed the lid; the black serpent raised its head and hissed up at her, and she stepped back hastily.

The strange man had followed her, and — before she could tell him that that was a really, _really_ bad idea in every sense of the word, that snakes were dangerous and this might one might even be venomous, she didn’t recognize the species — he reached into the bin, murmuring something unintelligible, then straightened. A large black snake twined around his arms, tongue flicking in and out, then slid up to the man’s throat, where it coiled loosely. Implausibly, both man and snake somehow gave the impression that they were quite comfortable in that position.

The officer swallowed, and determined that the snake definitely belonged to the man.

Which raised another problem.

Part of her, a very strong part, just wanted both man and snake to go away so she could do her best to forget about them. Another part, however, steeled itself to do its job at all costs.

“One moment,” she said. “Sir.” The man stared at her, and she wished she hadn’t said anything. Still… “Do you have a permit to keep that snake?”[30]

There was a beat of silence, as if the man had no idea what she was talking about. Then he waved an expansive hand and proffered a piece of laminated cardstock. “Yes, yes, of course! Right here!”

Most people with exotic pets did not carry their permits around with them as a matter of course, but perhaps this man got asked about his snake regularly.[31] The officer took the cardstock and peered at it, picking out the man’s name, a date, and some illegible signatures. She searched the old-fashioned font for the snake’s species, but couldn’t find it listed anywhere. She glanced up. “What kind of snake is it? I’m not seeing it on here.”

“Oh!” Again, the man looked momentarily stricken, then gave that ridiculously bright, beaming, disorienting smile. “It’s a… a… a Crawlysnake. It says so, there on the permit.”

If snakes could snort, the officer could have sworn that the sound the snake made was a snort.

She glanced down and realized that it did, in fact, say the species on the snake permit, in neat cursive writing in the lower right corner. She didn’t know how she’d missed it before. She’d also never heard of a Crawlysnake, which was somewhat surprising, as she’d considered herself rather knowledgeable about snake species. She resolved to look it up later.[32]

The permit still did not look quite like any snake permit she’d ever seen before,[33] but it certainly did look reasonably official, and some instinct deep down told her that if she asked about any other missing piece of key information, she would immediately discover that the information was right there after all.

Deciding it was not worth arguing the point any further, and wanting very much to sit down and have a cup of tea, she handed the permit back. “Well then, it looks like everything’s in order. Have a fine day, Mr. Fell. You and your snake too. Apologies for the inconvenience.” She wasn’t sure she really had anything to apologize for — she was just doing her job, after all — but her intuition told her it was best to play it safe right now.

“My thanks, good madam.”

~ ~ ~

The sensation of being draped around Aziraphale’s neck was not entirely disagreeable. Significantly more comforting to Crowley than that, however, was the fact that the angel was _there_ to be draped around. He couldn’t think of any reason Aziraphale would have been at the animal control facility that was not related to Crowley being at the animal control facility.

That was far too good a thought to be true, of course, but it was pleasant to temporarily imagine, and it _was_ undeniably[34] an agreeable sensation to be draped around the angel’s neck. Judging from the waves of tension emanating (probably inadvertently) from the angel, Crowley was in a better mood than Aziraphale.

In fact, it turned out that Crowley was in such a good mood that he found himself feeling some very un-demonic sympathy for the people who had picked him up with tongs and put him in a snake-proof bin. They were only doing their jobs, after all, and Crowley of all people should know about doing a job that sometimes had unfortunate results for passersby. He shifted his weight to get the angel’s attention, and directed that attention towards the effect Aziraphale had had on the room they were leaving. The angel hesitated, still radiating righteous anger, then sighed and conceded. Crowley could feel the throat and shoulder muscles relax.

~ ~ ~

The man draped in snake paused on the threshold and glanced back. The atmosphere in the room lightened palpably, and suddenly the animal control officer felt much, much better. As the door swung shut and the lock clicked back into its proper place, her colleagues stirred and put hands to their foreheads as if waking up from something that might have been a daydream or might have been a nightmare, they couldn’t tell which. No one commented on the open, empty snake-proof bin on the floor near the wall.

Briefly, the female officer considered saying something, then decided against it. Instead, she said something else. “Who wants a cup of tea?”

As it turned out, everyone wanted a cup of tea.

~ ~ ~

Aziraphale set Crowley down under a low-hanging tree with some carefully-suppressed reluctance; the weight of the snake draped around his neck was not entirely disagreeable. A moment later, a human-shaped demon was standing beside him.

Angel and demon looked at each other, both finding themselves at a loss for words all of a sudden. Finally Aziraphale said, “Are you all right, dear?”

“Hm?” Crowley was startled. “Oh yes, I’m fine. More than fine. I—” He hesitated, and stared at Aziraphale, snake eyes intent and puzzled. After a moment he asked, “What are you doing here, angel?”

Aziraphale flinched at the words. For the first time, it occurred to him that maybe Crowley hadn’t needed rescuing, maybe he hadn’t _wanted_ rescuing, maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that he’d let himself be caught by animal control right when he was due to be having dinner with an angel he had no reason at all to even like, let alone care about enough to want to spend time with at a restaurant. “I—” he stammered. “I’m sorry. I got to the Ritz, and you weren’t there. And then I saw the van…” He trailed off and muttered, “I— I was worried, okay? That’s all. I’m sorry. I can leave.”

“What?” It was Crowley’s turn to flinch now. “Nonononono! I mean, not unless you want to…”

He grimaced. Silence fell, half comfortable, half roiling with tension. Then Crowley said, “ _Crawlysnake?_ Really?”

“You know I’m not good at coming up with names on the fly!” Aziraphale snapped. “You could at least appreciate the fact that I had my snake permit on me!”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Yes, yes, much appreciated. You never told me you had a pet snake, by the way.”

Aziraphale appeared simultaneously flustered, which was fine with Crowley, and anxious, which was not. “It wasn’t my word, it was hers. I— did you mind? I’m sor—”

Crowley cut him off before the angel could apologize yet again. “ _No_ , stop, it’s fine. I just… never mind.” He decided not to mention the sentence, “He’s _my_ snake,” in case Aziraphale took that one back too. Pretending the sentiment in those words had been real was too pleasurable a feeling to lose.

This time, Aziraphale broke the awkward silence. “So, er… do we still want to go to the Ritz?”

Crowley stiffened, the reaction surprising himself at least as much as Aziraphale. “What happened? You weren’t there. I waited and waited, and you weren’t there. Where _were_ you?” The words came out sounding much more plaintive and much more accusatory than he’d intended, and he regretted them instantly, but he couldn’t take them back.

The angel looked sheepish.[35] “I— I’m sorry. I lost track of time. Someone touched one of my books, and…”

Crowley held up a finger. “Stop, let me guess. Eighteenth-century fashion?”

“Seventeenth.”

“I see.” Crowley sighed, and much of the tension remaining in the air dissipated. “Do _you_ still want to go? We can if you want.” He wasn’t feeling in a particularly Ritzy mood, but of the pair, the angel had always cared more about fine dining.

Aziraphale hesitated. “We could if _you_ want.” He dithered, then went on hurriedly, before he could back out, “I have a bottle of liquor in my back room, you know. Several bottles, actually. But this one should be particularly good. Barolo Monfortino, 1943.[36] I haven’t had company to justify opening it yet.”

“That,” said Crowley, “sounds _very_ tempti— very enjoyable.” He paused and added, “I’ll still owe you that meal from Paris,” just to be sure he didn’t lose a perfectly acceptable excuse to tempt the angel out to dinner some other time.

“Okay,” Aziraphale said agreeably. He led the way to the Bentley.

Crowley reached out automatically to open the driver’s door, then halted. He spoke slowly, precisely, like he was trying to reconcile the testimony of his eyes with that of his memory, and it was not working.[37] “I did _not_ drive myself here. I came in the animal control van. I left the Bentley at the Ritz in valet parking.” He spun to stare at Aziraphale. “Didn’t I?”

Aziraphale was very busy examining a fingernail on his left hand.

Crowley stared at the angel. He stared at the Bentley. He stared at the angel again. “You— you did _not_ —” He choked momentarily, then managed to get out, “Aziraphale, you don’t _drive_!”

“You are quite correct,” Aziraphale said with all the dignity he could muster.[38] “I don’t drive, and I don’t steal my friend’s[39] car. I also don’t chase animal control vehicles, or break into animal control facilities, or tell people I have a pet snake. There are many things I _don’t do_. But, in an emergency…” The angel trailed away, and he had that look again, full of anxiety, that Crowley couldn’t stand. “I’m _sorry_ ,” Aziraphale said, for the fourth or fifth time. “I know how important that car is to you… if I hadn’t been so worried, I would never have…”

It was all Crowley could do to resist turning into a snake again just so he could twine around Aziraphale’s neck and either strangle or hug the angel. Since either of those courses of action would have been wildly inappropriate, he settled for saying, “Shut up, angel. I’m grateful, okay? I’m grateful and amazed and amused that you came to rescue me — not that I needed rescuing, of course — and I’m not mad at you for using the Bentley. Though I still can’t believe it, and I don’t know why you didn’t get blasted with hellfire. You should’ve… glad you didn’t, though. Whatever. All I’m trying to say is, thanks.”

Expressing gratitude was not something Crowley did often or easily, and it was immensely draining and embarrassing for both the demon and the angel. They both pretended it hadn’t happened. They got into the Bentley, Crowley at the wheel and Aziraphale intensely relieved to be safely in the passenger seat, and sped in the direction of Aziraphale’s bookshop in full demonic style.

**Footnotes**

23 On top of the fact that it would have completely ruined his pursuit, and also run the risk of hurting bystanders, he didn’t want to contemplate what Crowley would say if Aziraphale got the Bentley into an accident. Smiting with hellfire wouldn’t begin to cut it.[return to text]

24 Not that he’d appreciated the tongs and the snake-proof bin — not by a long shot — but Crowley was self-aware enough to recognize that the main reason he felt so much like smiting was _not_ because of animal control.[return to text]

25 Well, at least for _this_ demon. Besides, he knew it probably wouldn’t really make him feel any better.[return to text]

26 This was a lot, but not as much as his usual. Charm was much easier to exert when you weren’t both carsick and worried sick at the same time.[return to text]

27 He hoped he was right about that.[return to text]

28 His manners were very courteous, but very out of date.[return to text]

29 Crowley, listening from inside the bin, though still not quite sure what was happening or why Aziraphale was there, felt his snake heart skip a beat, warm and not unpleasant.[return to text]

30 Keeping common snakes as pets was legal, but the larger, rarer, more exotic, and generally more dangerous varieties required permits. The officer didn’t recognize this particular variety of snake, but whatever it was, it looked definitely not common and _definitely_ dangerous.[return to text]

31 If he frequently did things like take the snake to the Ritz, she reasoned, he most likely did.[return to text]

32 But somehow, she never did get around to doing it.[return to text]

33 Among other things, it was much glossier, and had many more signatures.[return to text]

34 As mentioned previously, it was very deniable. See footnote 4 again.[return to text]

35 Privately, Crowley thought Aziraphale looking sheepish was extremely endearing.[return to text]

36 Author's note: Knowing nothing whatsoever about alcohol, I did a web search for expensive vintages from the 40s.[return to text]

37 That was, in fact, exactly what Crowley was doing.[return to text]

38 Which, under the circumstances, was relatively little.[return to text]

39 Crowley’s heart skipped another beat. He took the fact that Aziraphale had accidentally called him a friend and filed that away with the important things that he would pretend not to notice and would in fact hold on to for the next few millennia as comfort when he needed a boost.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this piece anywhere near as much as I enjoyed writing it! Any thoughts/comments would make me very happy, in the event you have some to share.
> 
> In any case, thank you for reading!


End file.
